


Memoirs of a Heathen

by C4crocuta



Series: Dramatics & Dragons [1]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 05:35:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29308908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/C4crocuta/pseuds/C4crocuta
Summary: A band of mercenaries and adventurers explore their memories over a table of tales.
Series: Dramatics & Dragons [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2152695
Kudos: 2
Collections: Sin Bin DnD





	1. "Hero" Is A Self-Inflicted Wound

**Author's Note:**

> Major A/Ns about the fiction and images of each character will be added on the end of the very last chapter. Opening notes will only contain trigger warnings.
> 
> Ch1 Trigger warning:  
> Vague mentions of death and murder.

Often people wonder what their lives would have been like if things were different. To that, he is no exception.

What would life be like had his older cousin – the man he looked up to more than anyone –chosen a profession different from a mercenary assassin? What would he be doing had that same cousin not brought home that tiefling? What kind of person would he be had his family not been in that fire? Where would he be if he never met this band of mercenary adventurers?

Certainly not here.

As Dahdreal gazed around the table at the mixed band of fighters, watching them laugh and tell stories over mead and liquors, he let his mind drift to that train of thought.

* * *

_The sound of a latch unhitching dragged his attention up towards the end of the long garden. The man re-latched the gate behind him before raising his hand in greeting, “Hey, Dah’.”_

_“Ragroth!” He threw the small hatchet into the pile of branches he was chopping at and ran down the length of herbs, careful not to crush any reaching vines in his bouncing skips._

_His older cousin caught him by the shoulders with a chuckle before he could crash into the tall man’s legs, “Slow down, kid.”_

_“I missed you!”_

_“I’ve only been gone for two weeks,” Ragroth ruffled his hair before looking up at what he had been doing, “Aren’t you a little young to be chopping wood? You’re still seven still, right?” His cousin grabbed the sides of his face, turning his head this way, then that in his inquiry._

_His cheeks puffed out indignation, “I’m eight now!”_

_The man chuckled, ruffling his hair again, then pressing him forward towards the house with a hand on his back, “Right, right. Eight, huh? You’ll be an old man like me then, soon.”_

_He frowned, but shuffled his feet forward, still careful of the plants, “You’re only 20, Ragroth!”_

_He had looked up in time to catch his cousin’s brow furrow, a look he wasn’t familiar with crossing the man’s face, “Only twenty, huh?” The man shook his head before smiling down at him, “Where’s Uncle?”_

_“Father went into town to get some more feed! Momma’s in the kitchen preparing stew, she’s gonna be real happy you’re back- Ma gets all sad and worried when you’re gone.”_

_Ragroth nodded, picking up the hatchet as they passed the branch pile and hooking it onto a notch in his belt, “Don’t leave this outside, it’ll get dull and the handle will break from the elements.”_

_He reached for the small axe, wrestling to pull it from his cousin’s side before slipping it into his own belt loop with an obedient nod, “I’m getting better at throwing it, I’ve been practicing like you taught me!”_

_Ragroth kneeled in front of him, ruffling his hair again before settling his hand on his shoulder, “I’m proud of you, you know that?”_

_When he nodded, the young man smiled, “I’ll tell you what, I’m going to be home for about 3 weeks this time around-“ Ragroth paused to allow the excited squeal he let out fade, though he bounced on the tips of his feet at the next words, “how about I finally teach you how to handle a sword?”_   
  
_“YES! Yes, please, Ragroth!” He pulled the hatchet back from his side and held it out in front of him as if it was actually a sword, “I’m so ready!”_

_The hatchet was pulled from his hand before he could blink, “Not quite, Dah’. You’ll need an actual blade first. We’ll head to the blacksmith tomorrow and see what he’s already got made. No point in getting one fit especially for you if you’re going to grow out of it.”_

_“Mr. Wabron really likes you, he might give me two blades for one!”_

_His cousin chuckled and reattached the hatchet to his side, “Of course he does, I’m his only business outside of farming tools. But don’t get your hopes up, and don’t be greedy. It’s just a learning blade.”_

_His face broke into a grin again as he looked up at the man he had admired since he was born, finding him looking away, “Everyone’s gonna be glad you’re home.”_

_He followed Ragroth’s eyes to the neighbor’s house when he sighed, seeing the old rust-covered curtain ruffle closed in the window. “Not everyone.”_

_“Ragroth… Why do people in town say bad things about you? They say you’re a bad person, that you do bad things for money.”_

_“Because I do.” Ragroth looked back at him with a blank look._

_He immediately jumped to his closest friend’s defense, “But I thought you were a fighter! That you were paid to take out bad guys, that makes you a hero!”_

_The face that stared back at him was serious, like he was about to be taught a lesson of sorts. The kind of face his father makes when he messes up doing something he had been warned was dangerous and gets scolded for endangering himself. “Life isn’t that simple, Dahdreal. Sometimes the bad guys are the ones paying me.” There was a pause before the serious face took on a soft grin, “There’s no such thing as all bad guys or all good guys. Everyone is a mix of both, just like me.”_

_He didn’t understand back then, “So you’re not a hero?”_

_“Not quite, even if I feel like one.”_

_He’s not quite sure he even understands now, “How do you feel like a hero if people say such bad things about you?”_

_Ragroth glanced above his head and gave a bright smile before looking back down at him, “What other people think about you isn’t any of your business,” he said with a shake of his head, lifting a finger to poke him in the chest, “Live the life that makes you think highly of yourself. I take care of my family, doing what I’m best at – and I am the best – and that makes me feel like a hero. Understand?”_

_He didn’t then, “Yes.”_

_“Good,” his older cousin stood, “now go wash up, it looks like dinners ready.”_

_He does now._


	2. Shock Fades as Quickly as Ink

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning:  
> Mentions of racism, blood.

Ragroth hadn’t just been his family, his friend, or his idol. He had been one of the most locally renowned mercenary assassins of his time. He never cared how it looked to others: an assassin coming from a small farming village. Just like he said, he was bloody good at what he did, and he was able to take care of his family in the process. They were the most well-off family in the village because of it, and he wanted for nothing.

Dahdreal's eyes crossed the table to the content-looking tiefling that was leaned back in her chair, an empty liquor glass rolling between her fingers as she watched the table’s other occupants trade verbal blows in jest.

Ragroth always did what he had to, and sometimes what he didn’t…

* * *

_It had stormed hard the night before, and late into the evening of the next day it was still pouring. The only sound in the world was the echo of the rain pattering off different plants and textiles in the village. He sat against the window, listening to the world being battered by water as he polished his new double-edged blade. The shining steal had been a recent birthday gift, Ragroth had called it a katana._

_It felt like the past five years had passed by in a blur with his cousin training him in different fighting styles between his ‘missions.’_

_He placed down the oil-soaked cloth and gazed up over the back yard through the window glass. The candlelight reflected into the glass against the abyss of black outside, painting a blur of his face into the sheet of running water._

_Ragroth had been gone longer than usual, around two months now. He had said that this job was going to be taking place lands away, but as the season’s storms raged on, it made the days waiting for his return stretch._   
  
_As he grew to the ‘strapping young man’ of thirteen, he learned more about what his cousin did. While he would never be told the gory details, he knew more now about the dangers of each job. He related to his mother’s anxiety more and more every day._

_The back door to the kitchen bursting open brought his thoughts to a quick halt. He stood, whirling around and extending the freshly oiled blade in front of him. The cloaked figure forced the door closed against the wind with his booted foot before snapping at him._

_“Don’t just hold it out with one hand like it’s a spoon. Grip it proper, boy.”_

_Instinctually, his other hand came up to grip the handle beneath the guard before his entire body slackened and he let the blade clatter to the floor, “Ragroth?!”_

_His cousin adjusted the large lump in his arms before lifting a hand to pull his rain-soaked hood back, “I know you did not just drop that sword, Dah’.”_

_He fumbled to retrieve and re-sheath the weapon as he watched Ragroth use his free hand to unwrap his cloak from the bundle he was holding, before leaning down to set it…. On its feet?_

_He watched dumbstruck as his cousin pulled the hood off the trembling figure, taking her face into his hands and looking her over. He could see Ragroth’s lips moving, mumbling questions of concern, but they were too muffled in his head to make out as the horns that wrapped lovingly around the sides of her temples stole all his attention._

_“What the fuck is that?!”_

_Ragroth’s head snapped his direction with a hard look, his thumb pausing in rubbing a smear of blood from her cheek, “Keep your voice down, it’s the middle of the night.” The creature glanced at him, her solid gold eyes like glowing magma in the dark, though he thought he had hallucinated the color as she closed her eyes and buried her face into his cousin’s chest in the next second._

_A creek drew attention to the hall, where his parents stood with a candle breaking the darkness of the doorway, his mother holding a hand to her lips in shock._

_“A tiefling?” The words fell from his father’s mouth in almost disbelieving question, like he was expecting to be woken and come to the conclusion he was dreaming._

_While he silently rolled the strange word around on his tongue, Ragroth ignored the question and looked to his mother, “Auntie, can you make some hot tea while I clean her up?”_

_She nodded, hurrying past the stove and picking up the kettle in her wake before blundering with the tap above the sink._

_He watched Ragroth wrap his arm underneath the creature’s knees, lifting her back up to his chest before disappearing past his father into the hall. Entranced, he moved to follow before his father grabbed his arm and shoved him into a kitchen chair. His father took a glance down the hall, watching Ragroth disappear through a doorway before turning to his wife in a furious whisper, “A tiefling? Was that a tiefling?! Is he out of his mind?”_

_His mother placed the kettle down heavily before popping the pilot on the stove. He listened to the gas hiss before the stove struck to life as she shushed him back, “Don’t argue, dear. I’m sure he has his reasons. Just wait and we’ll ask him soon.”_

_The sound of a bath tap turned on in the back of the house, and only then did he realize the rain was starting to let up. “What’s a tifeling?”_

_His father’s mouth was open, poised to argue, when his question took his parents by surprise. They both turned to him, a look of speechlessness shared between them as they both baited themselves for an answer._

_“Well…”_

_“You see, they’re-“_

_“A devil’s child.”_

_“They’re like humans- Dear!”_

_He looked back and forth between his parents as they rushed into another whispered argument, “I don’t understand.”_

_His mother gave a silent sigh before coming to sit by him, taking his hands into hers. “A tiefling is a – They’re like us, human, but also not.”_

_“Like Elves?” His cousin had told him of many other races from his travels, bringing back books and photos, trying to teach him about the cultures that existed past the lush prairies and pastures that made up their strictly human village._

_“No. Not like Elves.” His father answered sternly, before his mother continued._

_“Not exactly, honey. Tieflings are different from us. Their bloodline comes from humans.. but also-“_

_“Demons.” His father supplied._

_“- the infernal.” His mother corrected, again, “They aren’t too much different from us, aside from the way they look and a few other minor things.”_

_He glanced at his father, who seemed to be more infuriated than fearful, like his mother. “Are they… bad?”_

_“They’re bottom feeders, thieves, and criminals. They spend their lives dirtying up the streets of human cities, like starved feral dogs looking for the juiciest lamb to slaughter.”_

_His mother sighed, dejected, during his father’s rant, getting up to pour the near-boiling water into two mugs she filled with tea leaves._

_Minutes later, Ragroth returned to the kitchen, alone, and leveled his parents a hard look. “Can I talk to you?” His cousin glanced his way shortly before looking back at his father, “Alone.”_

_His mother nodded, worrying her hands into a kitchen towel and gesturing with her head, “Right. Dahdreal, put up your sword and get to bed, it’s late. Is she..-?” His mother gestured to the teacups._

_“She’s resting. In a moment.”_

_He made no move to argue, retrieving the sheathed blade and heading toward the hall as he watched the three adults corral into the sitting room. He made his steps as silent as possible, watching his cousin’s bedroom door closely as he creeped down the hall and around the corner to his own room._

_Once inside, he placed the sword on the top of his dresser and begin to strip of his shirt and pants. Flinging his socks off into a hamper and pulling a long sleeved sleeping shirt and pants from his drawers, he dressed before sitting back on the firm mattress that called his exhaustion to the forefront of his mind. His hands ran soft – too soft, and non-callused – over his face as he pieced together what had happened in the past 20 minutes._

_Tiefling._

_Ragroth brought home a tiefling._

_Why?_

_A devil’s child._

_She didn’t look that dangerous._

_He double checked the throwing knife behind his headboard just in case._

_Minutes passed feeling like hours._

_He padded bare feet over the cold wood floor to hang the sword up on its given place on the wall before remembering the oils and cloths his confusion had abandoned in the kitchen. He trekked just as quietly back up the halls, hearing muffled voices from the front room as he retrieved the vials and cloth bag from the window nook._

_On his way back down the hall, he found his feet slowing to a stop in front of his cousin’s door before he realized it. He stared, a bit taken back, at the wood of the door._

_A tiefling?_

_His heartbeat matched the echoing decibel of the rain from earlier._

_A tiefling… here?_

_He couldn’t feel himself breathe as his hand reached for the doorknob slowly._

_Maybe just a little peak…._

_A little curiosity is healthy, right?_

_A hand grabbed his wrist before he made contact with the brass knob. “What do you think you’re doing?”_

_He peaked up with a nervous smile to see Ragroth staring down at him, the hard look on his face still in place, making him look made of stone. In his other hand held two still-steaming tea cups. His cousin’s brow relaxed and he gave an accepting sigh, “Wait right here, I’ll be out in a second.”_

_He watched his cousin expertly crack the door and slide through the small opening, closing it behind him not even a second after he had fully entered, one handed. Patiently, he tapped his foot, juggling the oil bottles in his hands for a minute or two before the door creaked back open and Ragroth stood in front of him again. “Come on, lets go put those up.”_

_He led the way back to his room, setting the bottles and cloth bag into the carved wooden box on the top of the dresser. “Wh- why did you bring that tiefling home?”_

_Ragroth leaned against the door frame, watching him with his arms crossed, “Koia.”_

_“Huh?”_

_“Her name. Her name is Koia, not ‘that tiefling.’” Ragroth adjusted to cross his ankles, plucking up an old trinket he had brought back more than 8 years ago and appearing to observe it closely. “I brought her here because here is where she needed to be.”_

_“I don’t understand. Pa said-“_

_“I know what he said.” Ragroth’s voice came hard, but not loud, putting an end to that train of thought. “She’s hurt, she’s scared, she’s young, and she has no where else to go. I would want someone to take you in too, if you were in that position.”_

_“She’s injured?” He queried, sitting back on his bed with an almost blasé attitude, despite his obvious burning curiosity._

_Ragroth put down the trinket in it’s original place and crossed the room to stand beside him, “No, I said she’s hurt. There’s a difference.”_

_“What’s the difference?”_

_Ragroth sighed, sitting beside him on the bed and pulling him into his side by the shoulder, “I pray you never find out.”_

_It was quiet for a few more minutes before he brought it back up, “Are you sure it was a good idea to bring her here…? Isn’t she dangerous?”_

_His cousin scratched his chin, the short blonde goatee adding to the pensive look, and hummed before responding. “I don’t believe so. At least, not towards us.”_

_A little less afraid, and a little more filled with a sparkling excitement that made his curiosity burn, he unloaded as many questions as he could at once. “What else do you know about her? Where did she come from? How did you meet her? How long will she be staying? Is she a fighter too? Does she know how to fight? Do you think she’ll teach me?”_

_Ragroth stared back at him as if he was the most uninteresting portrait he had ever laid his eyes on, before blinking and giving a small grin, “I don’t know.”_

_His excitement died out like a wet incense stick, “What?”_

_“I don’t know. I’ll come to learn all of that in time when she’s rested and ready to talk.”_

_“You-“ He shook his head and looked up at the man he thought a genius, “you don’t know? But- If you don’t know her, why did you bring her home? How do you know she’s a good person?”_

_Ragroth ruffled his hair before standing and heading back out of the room, only stopping in the open archway to respond, the charming and easy-going grin still in place._

_“Good people are like good books: they never give up their secrets all at once.”_


	3. Crying Alone Is Unproductive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning:   
> Major character death  
> Violence, Gore, Loss

They had come to know the tiefling well over the years that followed. Ragroth had brought her home when she was 17, and with time she began to tell the assassin all her secrets. His parents had come around to accepting her, and their home grew a bit fuller.

Originally, he was absolutely entranced with the idea of a tiefling – a race he had never seen before, let alone heard of. He was desperate to learn more about her kind and the world in general. Careful of the subject matter, she indulged him.

She was from a temple, an acolyte, branded a heretic and banished for disobedience. And she did know how to fight, having been trained within the temple as a fighter and information-gatherer. Under Ragroth’s watchful eye, she began to help his cousin train him to fight in an entirely new – an entirely more serious – way.

When Ragroth left on jobs, he took the tiefling with him. Said she came to good use from what she knew working for the temple. “Like a spider” he said, she had webs of spies and information everywhere. As her contacts extended, she took time away separately from Ragroth, gathering and spreading information that would help him on future jobs. “Just like a spider”, laying traps and quickly wrapping up any lose ends before they start to.. struggle.

Even back then, when she came home she would be cold like ice and hard like stone for days before the cold shoulder wore off, the standoffish untrusting behavior melted into the good humored warmth she reserved specifically for them.

Admitted, he grew to care for her like an older sister.

The three years that followed were happy,

Wonderful,

Memorable.

* * *

_Ragroth was dead._

_He had been on a long job in the east by the ocean, they weren’t expecting him home for another week and a half. The day had been hot and sunny, the sky near white with the blaze of the sun and lack of clouds. Birds chirping and swooping low in the gentle breeze that cooled the world for a passing second._

_He had gotten up at the crack of dawn to train, running through everything he had been taught until it was too hot to continue. The humidity raised with the sun, so after running errands for his father he retired midday to the house for a well-read book – he couldn’t even remember what the topic had been on._

_His mother’s cries scratched the inside of his ears like crow talons, her shrieking sobs bringing both him and his father out into the garden in a hurry._

_She had been leaned over a body, rocking amidst her screaming._

_He couldn’t remember if he just stood there staring at the bloody handprints on the garden gate, desperate to not look at the face on the body through the blurring that quickly took hold of his vision, but that’s what it felt like._

_What he did remember was stuffing his hands into the wound in his cousin’s stomach as the blood poured heavy into the grass like a simmered-over pot, begging through his tears for him to hold on just a little bit longer._

_What he did remember was the sick gurgled sounds as the man he loved more than anything in this world choked on his own blood, too weak to hold his own flesh together any longer. His lips bluing underneath the rose-colored red._

_What he did remember was the sun burning down on him as he watched Ragroth die in a world of pain, right there in the garden._

_There had been no loving moment that would grant him peace in the future. Ragroth didn't die with an accepting smile on his face. He didn't die after passing words of affection and advice. There was no goodbye._

_Ragroth died, fighting not to._

_It had been sunny that day._

_It just, didn’t feel right._

_Koi had been out west, though he wasn’t sure where exactly, and she wasn’t back yet. It had been two weeks since that day Ragroth died, and word traveled fast. Surely, she must have heard that he was gone by now. Surely, she must have heard and made her way back. Where was she?_

_Hadn’t she heard?_

_Why wasn’t she here?_

_Surely, she had to have heard._

_She couldn’t-_

_…_

_She couldn’t be dead too-_

_Could she?_

_…_

_Why wasn’t she here?_

_18 days._

_18 days since Ragroth died, and she still wasn’t back. He had to be strong, pick up the slack for his family. His mother hadn’t stopped sobbing, his father could hardly stand to be around anyone for fear of breaking down. Gods know Ragroth was like a son to them, ever since he had lost his parents in the great flood as a kid._

_He had to be strong, for them. For them, if he couldn’t be for himself._

_His throat felt tight, his eyes burned every few seconds, but he swallowed down a sharp breath of air and bottled it up. Things still needed to be done, bills paid and chores worked. The nicer shopkeepers were giving him side-work when he needed as he looked for more serious employment._

_Mr. Wabron had offered to take him on as an apprentice, but he just didn’t have that kind of time. He had to take care of his parents, he had to grow up and step up. Which is where he was now, hauling haybales around the pasture for a nearby farmer; several men in the village out working as quickly as possible as black rainclouds approached from the far forests, rocked with lightning and promising a furious downpour they could see even from this distance. The rope cut into his palms, the stinging taking away the broken pieces that cut into the back of his heart. He’d do what he had to._

_An explosion sounded to the south end of the village. The bale strings slipped from his hands in the shockwaves, rolling off his knee, raised to stop it, before he slackened and let the heavy bundle smack against the ground._

_He watched the plume rise in the distance in alarmed bewilderment, other nearby workers dropping their equipment to watch the smoke rise from the fire._

_“Is that…”_

_The sentence trailed off from a nearby man, but he had already started running. This couldn’t be happening now, not now! That plume looked dangerously close to his home._

_He barreled through the cobbled and dirt streets that lead the shortest route to his house, desperate. The closer he got, the smokier the air, and the bigger the flames in the distance. He prayed to the gods as he ran and stumbled; gods that Koia had sung him tales of late at night, should they pity him and grant him the mercy that his parents weren’t in the blast zone and had made it out okay._

_He could already hear the shouts of closer villagers calling to others. In the chaos he could pick out few things._

_“No point in getting water!”_

_“Flames are too big!”_

_“Everyone get back!”_

_“Don’t! They’re long gone, there’s no way they survived that!”_

_“Move the stalls from the market! Don’t let the fire spread to any more streets!”_

_Streets._

_Streets?!_

_He skidded to a stop at the crowd, eyes feeling like pinballs as he searched for a way into the flames. Breathless, it was like every sound in the world had heightened to a high-pitched choir hymn, sung in a different language at a pace meant for ritual sacrifice._

_What was this?_

_The gods??_

_He took off down the street, feet hammering to the beating that amplified inside his head, intending to circle the raging inferno to reach his home on the other side._

_Every step he took brought him further into the original blast zone, so he took to the outer fields where the grass was alight with floating cinders. Thin lines of glowing red moving slowly through the pastures like gentle beach waves moving further up shore, dark patches like shadows left it’s wake._

_The blast couldn’t have taken out so much land at once._

_It couldn’t have taken out the whole block._

_It couldn’t-… it just_

_It couldn’t be._

_He never even reached the garden gate… there was no longer a gate. No longer a garden. The lush prairie behind his home - his home! – was a black mass all the way towards the river. The flames from the explosion had burned everything in sight, and quickly moved on inward towards the village._

_His home…. His-_

_It was gone._

_Not even the frame of the structure stood, still. The entire property was a smoldering ash pile._

_It was gone._

_They were-_

_THEY WERE!_

_THEY WERE IN THERE!_

_His parents were in the house!_

_The bottoms of his feet burned through the melting of his boots as he threw himself toward what was a pile of nothing, the ground ablaze and sizzling, the fire raging in plant roots beneath the dirt._

_Cracks of thunder came after the downpour. He slipped in the blinding steam that rose from the clashing elements, his knees hitting the ground at what once was the path beyond the garden gate._

_His breath stuttered in the drenching rain, unable to look away from what once was._

_His wails didn’t stop until the thunder did, the roving storm moving on within hours. When his grief allowed his voice to rest, the fire was almost entirely doused. Only dying smoke rose from the streets._

_From the nothingness that the world had left for him._

_They were all gone._

_He was alone._

_He had no idea how long he sat there, all his weight on his knees with his bottom pressed into his heels. But it would never be long enough to bring them back, to make any of this okay, to make him okay._

_A hand fell upon his shoulder, startling him into turning around and falling on his backside with a fearful shout._

_Why did these gods curse him by constantly taking his breath?_

_He watched her, the tiefling, as she stared at the remains of the home – the street – panting hard as if she had just come to a stop from running a marathon. She didn’t say a word, didn’t move, but there was a look on her face: the same look Ragroth always wore when he spaced out._

_As if the thought hit him like an electrical shock, restarting his heart and his pain fueled adrenaline, he threw himself at her. His fists banged into her shoulders, knocking her back in waves but never down. Frantic, trembling fingers grabbing into her and shaking between intervals of hits and clawing._

_“You weren’t here!” He sobbed, cries of anguish blubbering into broken screams, “Where were you! You should have been here!”_

_His grief brought him back to his knees, the young woman coming down with him in a mirror of his own body. “Why weren’t you here! Why weren’t you here! You should have been here! You should of- You should of- you weren’t here… you weren’t.”_

_Her arms wrapped around his shoulders silently as he buried his head into her chest. Still trembling fingers dug into her sides as he whispered and cried, “Why weren’t you here?”_

_As droplets of water dashed across his head and down his cheeks, he vaguely welcomed the rain shower that returned. Only, through his silent tears he noted, they pattered in the same spots, over and over._

_He didn’t need to look up to know those droplets would taste like salt filled sorrow._

_Maybe he wasn’t entirely alone._


	4. Size of the Dog in the Fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning:  
> Mentions of violence, death

Dahdreal came to regret saying those words to her, he wished he could take them back. That look on her face upon her return: he came to see it as bottled guilt rather than hollow acceptance. To this day, she blamed herself as much as he blamed her back then. But they never spoke of it. In fact, they haven’t spoken about Ragroth and his family in years, outside of the information about their deaths that flew unknowingly into her web.

She had quickly ushered them away from the village in a hurry once his crying had stopped that next morning. She pushed him through exhaustion without a word until they stopped to camp for the night in a thicket of trees, and only there did she voice what he subconsciously already suspected.

His cousin had made a lot of enemies in his line of work. Enemies that even her web of secrets could not ensnare. And one of those enemies had made a point to get revenge.

She didn’t trust it enough to let him stay in the village, nor was she so willing to leave him alone – not yet. As she searched for a place to go, he became adamant about taking after Ragroth, becoming a mercenary assassin.

It took no convincing.

Through her web, she located a small group of mercenaries in need of a silent killer, and only when she was sure he was well settled in with them and safe, did she immediately leave him.

Over the following years, she came back every few months, stayed with him for a few weeks at a time before disappearing again. He wasn’t sure what she was doing at first, continuing her web, perhaps. But after ten months of radio silence the first year, she returned and filled in the role for him that she played with his cousin: a ghost-like informant.

On days of her first return after that silence, he begged her for everything she knew through the webs. He remembered her nightly tales of the gods, followed by furious whispers of vengeance against the temple. He didn’t understand her hisses back then, but now he felt them fold inside of him like multiplying origami.

He wanted revenge against the person or group that took his family and home from him. He wanted for nothing else.

She didn’t argue; after all, she could relate. Though, as she started to divulge and journal information she thought might be important, that look she wore the day of the bombing continued to appear. Eventually that look of bottled guilt transformed into that cold stone look she wore every time she returned from a trip. The cold look was a permanent resident upon her face nowadays, and he wondered if he had grown to mimic it.

Surely, he had. Just as he mimicked her thirst for vengeance against somebody who thought their actions justified.

Revenge was a bloody cycle.

He’d make sure of it.

The only person who knew about his past and didn’t encourage the vengeful streak, was currently sitting diagonal from him at the table. His large arm draped over the back of the tiefling’s chair, large hand dancing clawed fingers over her bare shoulder.

* * *

_“This is him, Kissane, the kid I told you about.” The thin, bald elf slapped him on the shoulder as he stared up at the hulking blue dragonborn in front of him. The man was positively huge! At least 7 feet tall, probably closer to 7 and a half!_

_He had seen dragonborns in pictures that his cousin had brought back from his travels. He had read books by them, head about their armies, they weren’t new to him. Not like tieflings were the first time he laid his eyes on Koia. But he still couldn’t help his slack-jawed amazement from shining on his face._

_The gigantic man turned to look over his shoulder at the two, a grunt leaving his stern lips as he gazed down at him. “You weren’t kidding when you said ‘kid,’ Deo’.”_

_A large gray-blue hand stretched towards him, lifting his arm and dropping it back to his side as the dragonborn bent down to inspect him, “How old are you even, kid? This really isn’t the profession for children.”_

_“Si-Sixteen,” He stuttered, clearing his throat to regain his confidence. “Sir.” He amended as an afterthought._

_The dragonborn blew out a good-humored breath before turning back to the dark-skinned elf who watched the interaction with boredom, peeling an apple, snarky comment coming unasked for. “You’re only ten years his senior, Kissane.”_

_“You said he can fight? That he can use a sword? You better be sure about this, Deo’, this kid is barely the size of a sword.”_

_And that wasn’t an exaggeration, if the great sword leaned up against the wall belonged to the hulking man. He was sure it was slightly taller than him, and definitely wider._

_“I’m sure, Kissane. I have it on good authority that he’s up to snuff where it matters. I just need you to show him the ropes. Let him know how these things run, take him on a few jobs.” The elf paused to glance at him before shoving the apple into his cloak pocket and taking on a more serious demeanor. “Train him right. I don’t want to stop by in a few months and find out you let him die.”_

_The dragonborn huffed again, but nodded, nonetheless. As Deo’ gave him a last goodbye and turned to leave the small house, Kissane lifted his sword off the wall and gestured with his head to the back door._

_“Throw your bag on the table and get out your sword. Might as well see what we’re working with.”_

_Kissane was a beast with a sword, no pun intended._

_His stance was sure, his force was unstoppable, and his agility and speed were not to be overlooked because of his size. Every footstep, every strike, every block – though Kissane didn’t have to pull too many of those with the way the man was beating him into the ground – was precise and calm. It was the epitome of prodigy meets discipline, nothing like Ragroth’s flamboyant and taunting fighting style._

_He gagged on short breaths as he laid in the dirt, reaching for his sword – that had been knocked out of his hand for the thirteenth time the past hour – while stuck underneath the dragonborn’s left boot._

_“I’ll give it to you straight kid – you’ve been taught well.” The glimmer of pride and self-assurance was doused before it could truly form. “By killers. Not by fighters.”_

_The heavy boot removed itself from his midsection, and he gave up the pursuit of his weapon in exchange for catching his breath on the ground. The dragonborn circled him before leaning over his view of the clouds. “Every move you make is swift, rushed, with the intent to kill quickly and move on. While you’re not the best with a sword, your agility and aggressive style is to be admired. You’re able to make a pin turn at any point and re-evaluate where you’re coming from and the best attack in that position.”_

_Kissane reached down to heave him up by his shirt, setting him on his feet and smacking the dirt from his back. “But you lack stamina for long fights. Your stance is pathetic and weak, like you’re constantly waiting to move and don’t know how to stay still. And your sword work is childish at best.”_

_He cracked his shoulder and rubbed at his swore side before retrieving his sword from the dirt, “Isn’t that a good thing? I mean, as an assassin. I’m going to be moving constantly and won’t really be in a lot of serious long-term fights.”_

_The huff that came from the dragonborn this time was accompanied by a small gust of smoke from his nostrils, showing his disapproval immediately, “Assassins don’t shoot poison darts and run, boy. A real assassin goes into every situation ready for any type of outcome – be it a quick kill, a long fight, or death – regardless of how sure of his information he is.”_

_“Nobody wants to fight a weak opponent. It doesn’t make for much of a fight, so it looks like we’ll be starting from scratch.” Kissane continued._

_“Koia said people who wait for their opponent to be at full strength are inefficient.” He argued without thinking. “Weak, injured, sick, it doesn’t change the fact that they’re a target. People who feel the need to fight with honor are more likely to die.”_

_“Who the fuck is Koia?” He looked aghast, if not slightly irritated._

_“My older sister.”_

_The dragonborn tutted, “She’s a fucking heathen, now get up.”_

_“Widen your stance. Like that, now bend your knees a little. You’re stretching your back like an ostrich neck, there’s no need to appear as tall as your opponent.” Kissane instructed, still circling him in observation. He abided, loosening his posture and bending his knees just enough that his shoulders dropped a few centimeters._

_“Stop bouncing on the balls of your feet. This isn’t a race, it’s a fight. Flatten your feet, distribute your weight evenly from your toes to your heels.” Kissane stopped in front of him and lifted his own sword again, “Good. Just like that. Now, block me without moving your feet.”_

_Four hours, multiple cuts and bruises, and probably a concussion later, he sat against a tree in the yard. He was drenched in sweat and dirt, absolutely out of breath, tired as hell – and he hurt. He hurt a lot. He glanced up at the offered water bottle and accepted it with a quiet ‘thank you.’_

_As he drank, he looked over the dragonborn that was re-wrapping the hilt of his sword in a gauze-like cloth. He didn’t look like he had been training at all. There wasn’t a drop of sweat in sight and he was breathing in the air like he was on vacation._

_“Where’d you learn to fight like that?”_

_Kissane glanced over at him at the question and gave a small smile, all sharp teeth and fang, “I joined the military when I was twelve.”_

_His eyes unnecessarily popped out of his head, “The dragonborn military!?”_

_“Do I look like a fairy to you, boy?”_

_He almost heard it in Ragroth’s voice and had to taper down the sad smile of amusement. A deeper shadow crossed him as the big mass of muscle plopped onto the ground beside him. “Thirteen years in that military can turn anyone into a real fighter. Especially when you spend six of them as a Lieutenant General.”_

_He was sure if you put a mirror in front of him, he would have been able to see the sparkles in his eyes. “You are a Lieutenant General! Were- were a Lieutenant General. You said thirteen years? So, you must have retired recently?”_

_The dragonborn offered a nod and a short, “Yes” in response._

_He furrowed his brow, observing the blisters and bruises that covered his hands, “But why? You were a high rank, why quit?”_

_There was a deep sigh, and he didn’t think he was going to get an answer for several minutes, before Kissane gave another sigh and started his short tale. “I found out my General was selling classified information to another country’s government. I killed him for it. They gave me a medal, wanted to make me General in his place.”_

_He soaked that in for a minute, though he felt a bit more confused, “So.. you quit because you were a hero?”_

_“I quit because I no longer held any trust in the system.” Kissane stroked large black claws over linear tattoos and symbols on his arm that he recognized in his cousin’s books on foreign militaries._

_“Because of one man?”_

_Kissane considered him for a moment before shaking his head and offering another small toothy grin. “No. But that man was the breaking point for me, you understand?”_

_He nodded in response as he thought about it. “I can relate. My cousin- he was my best friend, my idol. I looked up to him more than I looked up to anyone.” The rant came out of his mouth before he could stop it, “He’s why I became an assassin. He was the best one to ever come out of Ferphasia. But he was killed a while ago on a job.” He trailed off when he realized where he had been going with his verbal vomit._

_“So, you’re from Ferphasia? Still got family there?” Kissane leaned his head back against the tree, staring up at the branches that swayed in the breeze above._

_“No.” He whispered, picking at a blister on the base of his palm. “They were killed a few days later. That was my breaking point, why I left Ferphasia.”_

_He stood, tucking his thumbs beneath his fists and getting into the stance Kissane had taught him hours ago. “I want to find the person who killed my cousin, the person who took my family from me.” He ran through katas, using the large tree next to him as a training post to punch and kick. He threw his fists into the bark harder when he could hear the pain hiss through the anger of his clenched teeth. “I’m going to get my revenge.”_

_The back of his calf was kicked out from behind him, causing him to fall face-first into the tree and stumble into the ground._

_“What is revenge going to get you, boy? Is it going to bring your family back? Is taking someone’s life going to bring your cousin walking through that door?” Kissane pointed towards the house as he grumbled at him._

_“I don’t care!” He didn’t try to bite back the tears this time, “They took everything from me! I’m going to make them pay!”_

_“And what are you going to do after you get your revenge? Trust me when I say you don’t feel any better after it’s over. Are you going to come back here and keep up this mercenary job? Go back home and start over?” Kissane huffed at him without humor, but his eyes had softened at the tears on his young face. “Because it’ll never be over. You’ll make your own enemies, just like your cousin. Revenge isn’t going to make you a man you want to be, so what kind of man are you going to be?”_

_He pulled his knees to his chest and rested his chin against them, “I don’t know... but how am I supposed to find myself if I don’t do this?”_

_Kissane stared at him with muted pity, “You have your whole life to make yourself into who you are, you don’t have to go looking for revenge to become who you are meant to be. Life isn’t about finding yourself – It’s about creating yourself.”_

_He could feel his brow furrow as the breeze caressed his ear like vicious whispers, and he glared up at the tall man as his resolve hardened, “This is the me that I want to create.”_


	5. If You Want to Play the Game, You Have to Be Ready to Lose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings:  
> Mentions of violence, suicide  
> Sexual situations

In the end, Kissane was never able to convince him against vengeance – not for lack of trying – but he managed to find his place within this mercenary group anyway.

And as often as he wonders what his life would be like had things been different, he sometimes finds himself wondering what their lives would be like, too. 

He couldn’t imagine the two across from him being without each other now. While their companionship didn’t exactly change who they were at their core, both of them had warmed considerably as the years progressed.

Of course, all great changes are preceded by great chaos.

* * *

_Months after Kissane had begun training him, he got a message. Koia was coming to check in with him._

_He was positively giddy to see her again, though he did his best to hide it. In his training, he had completely forgotten to tell the dragonborn about her arrival until it was too late to prepare for._

_She showed up early, maybe for the first time ever, though only by a few days. The ten months of her silent absence had stretched for so long that when he saw her appear in the perimeter while he sparred with Kissane, he practically dropped his sword and went flying across the grass into her arms._

_“You’re back!”_

_She hugged him tightly for a second before stepping back to look at him, hands on his shoulders. Her face immediately broke into a hard smile, “Not another growth spurt! Look at you, you’re taller than me now!” She reached up to ruffle his hair, but he smacked her hand away good-natured._

_He stared down at her from his 4 inches of height superiority, smiling as her face softened. He turned to call Kissane over, only to find him already approaching._

_The dragonborn’s mouth was parted slightly, just enough to show the points of his sharp teeth. His eyes roved over her like a man starved of air, as if she was magic within herself. When Kissane got within reach, he breathed in hard and straightened. “Who’s the tiefling?”_

_His grin stretched as he introduced the two, “Kissane, this is Koia. Koi’ this is-“_

_“Your sister?” The dragonborn emphasized the relation; a disbelieving look on his face as his hand came out in front of him, palm up, for her to take, “I’ve heard a bit about you, I’m Kissane Zhao.”_

_He observed the two with bated breath as Koia looked at the hand extended towards her, and then back up at the tall dragonborn. The hard look was back on her face as her pupil-less gaze searched his upper body._

_When her gaze reached Kissane’s face, her nose crinkled and her brow furrowed. He watched, mildly horrified, as the twenty-one-year-old spit directly into the dragonborn’s face before stalking off towards the house._

_He bit down hard on his amusement and his lip as Kissane stood dumbstruck. When the man finally snapped from his shock, wiped the spit off his face, and whirled around to watch her near the house, he felt himself lose control and start to choke on his laughter._

_Kissane’s head whipped towards him, “Why the fuck did she do that?!”_

_Through his chuckles, he gestured to Kissane’s shirtless torso and military tattoos, “It’s because you’re a General.”_

_“Lieutenant General!” He corrected, before looking back towards Koia and calling loudly, “And I’m retired!!”_

* * *

The days followed with one quip after another. Every insult, every blow to an ego was followed up by a vicious verbal counterattack. Despite Koia’s best attempts at avoiding the dragonborn during her stay, they bickered bitterly at every turn with Kissane provoking her.

She’d leave for a few weeks to do gods know what, and when she returned it would be the same story. All jabs and elbows.

Until one day, the dam broke.

* * *

_Kissane watched through the open back door as Koia stood in the middle of the backyard, her back to the house as she stretched her arms above her head. His eyes locked onto the twin tantos that crossed over her lower back, “She’s not the one who taught you how to use a sword, right?”_

_He looked up from where he was strapping on the new shin guards Koia had brought him, “No, that was my cousin, Ragroth.”_

_“Oh, thank the gods, so this might be a half-decent fight.” He watched, mouth agape, as Kissane slipped through the door and waltzed outside to take his training session._

_“H-hey!” He stumbled after him, fiddling with the last buckle on his guard, “She’s supposed to fight me!”_

_Kissane huffed again, barely throwing a look over his shoulder, “You aren’t much of a challenge. I should at least make sure she’s decent before allowing you to undo all my hard work.”_

_Koia turned to level Kissane a flat look, and he puffed up as he turned to her instead, “Why didn’t you tell me I sucked at fighting!?”_

_Her gaze slid to him, then she cocked her head to the side, “If I told you how much you sucked, you’d be determined to prove me wrong on your own,” A sly grin lifted over her lips as she narrowed her eyes at him, “And wouldn’t listen to anyone’s advice. You always were a stubborn kid.”_

_“So, you let him go out into this world not being able to fight properly? To defend himself? You might as well kill him yourself.” Kissane’s biting words of disapproval were responded to with a movement he would have missed if he blinked._

_Koia’s short swords were suddenly out of their sheaths in one silent move, held securely in her hands. One was pointed straight at Kissane, her arm almost fully extended. The sneer on her face was nearly blood thirsty, “I don’t need to be lectured by someone like you.”_

_Slowly, with his eyes dead on her, Kissane lifted the great sword from where it was strapped to his back, “Someone like me?”_

_She didn’t lower the sword, but she hissed words in a language he didn’t recognize. Kissane, however, seemed to. His eyes grew and narrowed, he breathed hard through his nose and smoke filled the space in front of him, “Have you no respect-“_

_“You wear your battle flags as a blindfold!” The sword that was facing Kissane flung to the side as she spoke, gesturing wildly while the other blade stayed secure and ready at her left side. “Letting borders define your enemies and birth define your allegiance.”_

_He watched their exchange with growing unease._

_“You don’t discriminate in your actions, listening to the orders of people who wear more stars than you. When you slaughter men on those orders, you do it for capitalistic greed. For jealously. For pride and spite. You do it for a kingdom and government who would sooner throw you under the tide than risk the loss of personal assets.” She spit words of distaste, unconsciously unloading every negative trait she had been taught._

_“That’s rich coming from you, acolyte.”_

_He watched her freeze, lower the sword into a battle-ready position._

_“I know the things you’ve done. I’ve heard the rumors of those tiefling temples.” Kissane’s furious whisper caused her face to slacken. A stricken look crossed her momentarily before her eyes narrowed again. “You say I slaughtered men for profit? You’ve slaughtered children. And for what? You don’t even know.”_

_Kissane inched closer as he continued to hiss through his teeth, “My officers gave orders, and I followed them to the best of my ability. Old men in cloaks gave you orders, and you followed them without question.” He held his breath as Kissane continued forward, but Koia didn’t move an inch from her spot. Surprisingly, she didn’t lash out physically either, her tail slowly starting to curl a tight spiral around her right thigh._

_Every exhale in his irate rant brought more smoke and steam like a raging chimney, “I was blinded by loyalty to a border, but you’re blinded by loyalty to gods that have yet to show themselves.” The great sword slung out much like the way her tanto did earlier, and wildly the dragonborn gestured and looked around himself before leaning down into her face, “We’re not so different, acolyte, you and I.”_

_Her breath shook in the silence that followed, before the tiefling sheathed her weapons quickly and turned. He waited until the door to the house slammed behind her before he turned to the large man, “You’re right, you know. You’re not so different.”_

_Kissane took a moment to collect himself before turning to him with a raised brow, “What?”_

_“She’s not an acolyte, anymore.”_

_Kissane went to re-sheath his sword, but he stopped the man by pulling out his own. He wasn’t going to waste a day of training to their bickering. “You said s-“_

_“She was banished from the temple, for disobeying orders.” He supplied, gazing back at the house before dropping his voice to a scarce whisper, “She disobeyed orders a lot.”_

_The dragonborn spared the house a glance before getting into position, “How do you know?”_

_He cocked his head to the side in a mirror image of what Koia had done earlier, “What do you think all the scars are from?”_

* * *

The change was quick, the two avoided each other and the house became quiet. But the tension was still there, just beneath surface. Apparently, unbeknownst to him, it was a different kind of tension than before.

It started with little moments when she came back after a month long disappearance.

* * *

_Kissane blocked her path in the hall, baiting her when she did nothing but glare up at him. “Do you treat everyone like this, or am I just special?”_

* * *

It escalated into startling admissions upon every return.

* * *

_Koia sheathed her blades just as dawn broke over the horizon, blinking the sweat out of her eyes as she watched the sun break into the bottom of the skyline. When her panting breath subsided, she turned back to find Kissane watching her._

_“You’re up early, if I knew you trained at night, I would have joined you.”_

_She ignored him._

_He followed her as she walked back to the house, “How about a quick spar while you’re warmed up.”_

_“No.” She kept walking._

_He leaned forward, over her shoulder a little, “We could make a wager over it?” He reared back when she stopped short, though she didn’t turn around or address him._

_He took the chance, “You win, I buy you dinner. I win, you let me buy you breakfast too.”_

_Now, she whipped around and leveled him an accusing glare from her short height, “Do you think I’m stupid?”_

_He took a step closer and leaned to be near face level with her, pulling up a smirk that he meant to be coy, “I think I’ve figured out why you hate me so much.” She said nothing, so he took a step closer. “If you weren’t red from anger all the time, you’d have to admit I make you blush.”_

_Her eyes practically popped out, “You actually think I’m stupid!”_

_A large hand snaked around her waist to pull her closer into his chest, “Admit it, that’s why you watch me train Dahdreal so much, you like to watch me shirtless.. and sweaty.”_

_Her breath caught vocally as she balked, shoving against his chest until he let her go. Her tail whipping around her in defiance._

* * *

He thought she’d stop coming around as often with Kissane’s constant flirting. And while her trips away were just as long, her stays at the mercenary house were slowly becoming longer and longer.

* * *

_It was late in the night during the middle of winter; the entire house was quiet after a long job of trekking through the cold snow. The tiefling had gone into the kitchen to make hot tea, being the least content with the freezing weather during her stay._

_She watched the steaming water in the cup slowly dye with color, the leaves in the bottom wilting as browns and reds spread like a fresh kill in shark infested waters. The temperature was certainly biting enough for the symbolism._

_So distracted in her thoughts, she didn’t notice the other body enter the room until he was right behind her, large muscular arms gripping the counter on either side of her. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?”_

_She turned between his arms, leaned back against the counter. Sharp teeth grinned down at her, “Preferably mine.”_

_A snort shot through her as she glared blandly at the dragonborn, “Couldn’t sleep. Too cold.”_

_Kissane leaned forward, pressing his chest against her, “I could keep you warm.”_

_“Why don’t you give this act up. You know I don’t like you.” Her eyes rolled but her face didn’t have that hard expression it usually did._

_“Of course you like me.” He leaned further to press his cheek into hers, “If you didn’t, you would have killed me by now. Or at least, tried to.” His hum of amusement didn’t carry over into her own voice._

_“Now who’s the stupid one?” She drew away further, leaning back over the counter, “I can’t kill you, I need you to keep Dahdreal safe when I’m gone.”_

_A sigh came out of the dragonborn’s mouth as he leaned his head back to groan at the ceiling. “If you stopped leaving on all these trips, you wouldn’t have to worry about it.”_

_“That’s not what I mean by gone.”_

_It got quiet again as Kissane looked back down at her. Her face was still soft, and her eyes were glued to him with mild amusement. He slipped his hands from the counter edge to her hips, then down to her thighs with gentle strokes. When she didn’t offer up any complaint, he gripped the back of her thighs and lifted her onto the counter, “Come on, just give me one chance.”_

_The tiefling shook her head and looked away from him, “One chance is all it takes.”_

_A grip on her chin turned her back to him, “That’s what I’m counting on.”_

_Kissane leaned his forehead against hers, a deep breath out came with smoke as the look in his eyes heated up. “I know that I can make you happy, that I can take care of you, if you’d just let me.”_

_He leaned back an inch or two to stroke the side of her cheek with his thumb, “I know you have your reasons, but it’s okay to admit you want it.” Her eyes searched him as he breathed, “I have.”_

_Koia’s eyes dropped to his mouth before she pushed forward into his chest, locking the two of them together by the tongue. And it was all tongue. Tongue, teeth, low moans, and searching fingers. Her hands cupped the sides of his face as his tongue stroked and dominated hers. His own hands gripped her hips tightly, pulling her hard into his body and showing no signs of slowing down anytime soon._

* * *

He had walked in on them that night, which wasn’t a memory he was fond of remembering. But other than politely asking them to keep it off of surfaces in which they prepare food, he didn’t mention it. Not that he had to. They seemed to have no problem publicly entertaining their affections, and the tiefling started to spend every night she was there with the dragonborn.

Their relationship progressed into something steady, easy, and seemingly permanent. At least, until he turned 19.

Then it almost came to a screaming, sobbing stop. It was only the second time he had seen her cry.

* * *

_It was late summer; Koi had been on one of her trips and was late to her scheduled return._

_He hated when she was late._

_When she did show up, she was in an absolute frenzy. Covered in sweat and panting, obviously having run all the way here from wherever she had been. He could tell in the way her fingers trembled and her joints twitched that something was wrong. Very, very wrong._

_He tried to stop her as she blew past him, asking what was going on._

_Frantic, full of horror, she just mumbled ‘Asao’ and moved past him. Only to stop and turn to him with that hard stone look on her face._

_“Asao is away from the temple, far from the temple, on a job. I have to go now, before he gets back. I can’t- I can’t- Even if I was strong enough to take him down, I couldn’t- I can’t wait.” She shook her head and stepped closer, grabbing him by the front of his jacket, “You can’t tell Kissane about Asao. Promise me, you won’t say a word about why I’m doing this now.”_

_Her eyes searched him as he gaped at her. “Promise me!”_

_“I- I promise!” She released him before re-starting her frantic search through the house for anything she needed. As she entered Kissane’s room, he could hear them start to talk- start to argue._

_Asao._

_He remembered hearing the name in passing when he was younger. When he asked Ragroth about it, his cousin said that Asao was an older tiefling who had trained her in the temple. A high-ranking acolyte. The only things about him that Ragroth told him was that Asao was the reason Koia had problems interacting with people, the reason she didn’t like staying in one place for too long, and the reason she didn’t like her tail being touched. The only other thing Ragroth said, was to never bring him up again._

_The arguing turned to screaming, and he watched Koia leave the bedroom with a slightly larger pack over her shoulder. Tears were streaming down her face, and Kissane was hot on her heels._

_“You can’t just burn down a tiefling temple! They will kill you if you try, they are practically a small army!” The dragonborn bellowed in disbelief at her audacity as he stormed after her._

_The tiefling whipped around, screaming, “I know what they are! I was raised there! I was one of them!”_

_She breathed hard in the silence that followed, though the hulking man didn’t let it last. His voice took on a pleading tone, gentle and quiet, “Please, give up this revenge against the temple. Stay here, let me take care of you.”_

_“I don’t need to be taken care of!” She shrieked, voice cracking horse through her sobs of pain, a sound he had never heard before, “I need to be vindicated!!”_

_The agony filled cry broke the heat in the air as the three of them stood there silent, both men staring at the weeping woman in stunned sympathy._

_“I love you,” She whispered, “Sometimes so much that it hurts, but if I have to leave you behind to do this, I will.” Her mind was made up, so she pleaded with him, “Please, don’t make me.”_

_He could see the redness gather in Kissane’s eyes as he began to shake his head in small jerks. His voice cracked, but not damaged, “I can’t.”_

_He watched her shoulders straighten, her resolve harden, and her tears dry up virtually instantaneous. She straightened her gear and turned back around, quickening her steps over to him. When she got within reach, he grabbed the sides of her head just beneath her horns, dipping his head down to rest his forehead on hers as her hands covered his._

_“Stay with the group. Deo’ knows what he’s doing, and he owes me. He’ll get you anything you need.” She spoke to him, those liquid magma eyes almost distracting him from the sad smile that pulled over her lips._

_He knew this was goodbye, for good. Even if by some grace of the gods she wasn’t killed in her attack on the temple, she wouldn’t be returning. He nodded against her head, and to keep his own voice from cracking with sorrow, he kept it at a whisper too, “Good luck.”_

_With one last squeeze to his hands, she fled from the house quickly; only one destination on her mind, one last fight._

_He turned his head back to Kissane, watching the dragonborn watch her go, his head still shaking minutely. His eyes were red rimmed and filled with unfallen tears, his face set into a grimace as he bit hard on his lip. His eyes narrowed in on the large man, measuring him with the same disapproval Ragroth had shown him whenever he disappointed his cousin._

_When Kissane caught him staring with that hard expression, his breath broke out in a pained gasp. A whispered “Damnit” and suddenly the dragonborn was gone, racing after her in a hurry._

* * *

They came back, together, the next morning. Calm. Collected. He gathered that Kissane had begged her, bargained. Made her a promise; a promise that he would help her take down the temple and every warrior in it, but she had to wait until he deemed them both ready. Somehow, in some way, he got her to agree.

He was told to never look a gift horse in the mouth, so he didn’t ask questions. He just silently thanked the gods and did his best to enjoy the smooth sailing the following years brought.

As he turned his attention back to the blue haired half-elf that was gesturing wildly in his story telling of some great adventure, he decided that maybe it didn’t matter what life would be like if things were different.

And maybe he should stop thinking about it entirely, least he lose the life he has right in front of him.


	6. The Powerful Don't Skip Arm Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning:  
> Depictions of war  
> Graphic depictions of violence, death

Kissane watched Varen almost knock a cup over as his arm flew in front of him and then above his head; an amused look on his face as the blue-haired elf screamed, a bit tipsy and red in the face, about some stupid bard who almost blew his cover on the outskirts of Kaprudan because he wanted to follow Varen around singing about lycans and playing some stringed instrument.

_Maybe if the man lifted weights and bulked up his muscles some more, he wouldn’t have to worry about being spotted everywhere he went._

He snorted out loud at the thought, remembering the first time he had mentally critiqued the elf on his muscle tone.

* * *

_He adjusted the great sword on his back, tightening his gear as the puddle at his feet caught the gleaming reflection of the three metal stars on his uniform. With a grunt, he straightened himself and stepped his boots through his reflection, sending it rippling out as he looked up at his platoons of swordsmen in front of him._

_Each dragonborn soldier stood calm and collected. Ready for the orders that would send them directly into the battle that was starting not three klicks from where they gathered. He had been called up to lead a company of about 75 dragonborns into the war between the Sangius and Lumen Orders._

_Truthfully, he didn’t see a point in participating in this war. His country was neither allied to the Sangius or the Lumen people and did not care to have ties to lycans in general. However, the Lumen Order contained dragonborns that were born outside the borders, so the Draeniau Uffern government were swayed to take pity on their pleas for assistance. And he wasn’t one to question orders; Though, he did talk his General down from 250 foot soldiers to 75._

_He hoped he made the right decision._

_“Qiángdà!” He pulled their attention instantly when he addressed the company, the nickname amongst the dragonborn military filled them with pride and seemed to make them fight a little bit harder. “Remember, the ones with the blue markings are your enemy!” He stalked around the troops to the front as they followed his movement with their eyes, “They’re small, but they’re agile! Don’t let them get the better of you! Let’s move!”_

_They immediately began to march out, their quick strides crossing the lowering hills in minutes as they picked up speed. By the time they reached the thick of it, they were in a full run with weapons drawn._

_He smashed one lycan out of the way with his shoulder from where it fought against a half-elf that lacked the blue marks he was looking for, bringing his sword down to block another that lunged from the left. The dragonborn nearest to him drove a long sword through the blue-marked hound’s head before nodding at him and forcing his way through the crowded fighting ground._

_He swung back around, heaving the sword in an arch over the approaching lycan. The second he caught the blue markings that decorated skin, he brought the blade down hard into its spine, sneering at the pained holler that sounded from its throat. One to show mercy, he lifted his boot to smash the paralyzed creature’s skull, silencing the screams._

_The battle tore through the day, one body after another. One parry, two strikes, three or four steps, another strike, two parries, three more consecutive strikes._

_For his own sanity, he threw in a few headbutts, stomach kicks, and elbows to the face._

_His eyes were constantly on a swivel, gauging his surroundings and making notes of his men. One in particular, caught his eye._

_The dragonborn held his sword out to the side, a blue striped lycan stuck halfway down the blade that impaled it. Another sword he had picked from the ground was held sideways in a poor – and obviously rushed – grip that was struggling to hold off the lycan that was practically foaming at the mouth. Jaws wide and canines sharp, the hot look in the_ _creature’s eye was thrilled to slaughter more than desperate to survive._

_A chance glance up caught sight of another lycan climbing a damaged – was that a trebuchet? – with the intent of jumping down on the young Qiángdà from above._

_“Kraigor!” The young, green dragonborn threw his head his direction. “Down!”_

_The moment the kid ducked, he swung the greatsword into the foaming lycan’s body with its blunt edge. “Pralkus!” He called, flinging the creature yards back with a gaping, fatal wound stretching shoulder to shoulder._

_A larger amber toned dragonborn on the other side of Kraigor glanced over his shoulder before shoving off his opponent, spinning around and throwing a kick backwards to knock his reapproaching adversary down. Pralkus ripped the stuck body off the extended sword and threw it into his own attacker, allowing Kraigor to thrust the long blade forward into the falling lycan’s belly. The snapping jaws came to a gurgled stop 2 inches from the young dragonborn’s face._

_Satisfied, he observed his surroundings again, turning 360 degrees in place as he counted out his men that he could see from this vantage point._

_He paused with a grunt when he spotted a kid a little way away, struggling underneath a blood-thirsty mutt._

_He approached quickly once he spotted the blue marks, watching the kid fight back against the weight of the lycan._

_Luckily for him, his sabre was stronger than his puny arms._

_He neared without too much incident, slicing through anyone that tried to become an obstacle. When he was within reach, he bent down and grabbed the lycan by the scruff in his left hand, raising it to his own height. It snarled and threw its claws around like a squirming koala._

_With a sneer, he thrusted his sword through the hound’s back a bit harder than intended. When the howling breath quieted against the sounds of the surrounding battle, he pulled his blade back, the squelch of intestines spilling from his front an unwelcome sound._

_He flung the spilling body away and reached a hand down to help the kid up, lifting him from the ground like a pen from a desk._

_The half-elf was smaller than he thought._

_His brow furrowed as the kid blundered through words, smacking him on the arm in thanks._

_A distant battle cry pulled his attention for a second. He flexed his fingers and re-adjusted his grip on the hilt of the sword before the half-elf got to talking again._

_He sniffed, glancing the blue hair and searching for blue marks before he felt a frown cross him, “You’re one of them then, are you? A… shifter.”_

_The kid looked back at him with a swallow, “A shifter, yes. One of them? No.” He leveled._

_“I fight for freedom.”_

_He stared at the kid for a minute, trying to read him. Despite his age, the kid had a look on his face he didn’t like. A look he had seen on those who were once slighted and never fully got over it. A look that meant anger and darkness simmered just below, waiting to boil over. It was a look he hoped he would never have to see again._

_The irony was that he would see the same look on another 21-year-old in just 3 short years._

_But there was something else, the hurt was accompanied by an unsure innocence. And innocence can grow, hopefully._

_“I usually have a knack for reading people. You are harder than most.” He admitted, deciding to just ask outright, “I can sense light in you, but it’s touched by darkness.”_

_He glanced at the dead body he had just flung across the grass, “Not as much as your dead friend over there, though.”_

_He looked back at the kid – man, he had to admit now that he was up close – and leveled him a hard look, using the voice he addressed his men with, “Tell me, did I make the right choice when I saved you?”_

_The half-elf lycan paused for a moment, seeming to consider his answer. A good sign._

_“I hope so.”_

_Yeah… he did too._

* * *

Luckily, he didn’t come to regret either of his decisions that day.


	7. Sex Kills

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning:  
> Explicit sexual depictions  
> (Blood, voyeurism, creampie)

Kissane refilled his glass as the tiefling next to him sent another scathing insult towards the blue-haired half-elf, only for the lycan to send her a flirtatious smile and a dirty comment. He watched his love’s cheeks go red with mild embarrassment and indignation. She was quick to follow it up with another rude comment towards his canine heritage and irritating personality.

Despite the back and forth, he could feel how calm the air was. There wasn’t any friction; and even beneath the red, he could hear her heart beat steady and slow. Like a fallen leaf lazing down a slow river.

A brush against his left thigh had him looking down; freezing carefully as the tiefling’s thin tail slowly started to wrap around his leg, the flat stingray shaped tip stroking against his skin with content affection. He steadied his breath and took a deep drink of his glass as he looked back up, trying to ignore it.

She hated her tail being touched, and the very rare moments where it unconsciously sook out another person were few and far in between. He wasn’t in any rush to bring her attention towards it.

Especially not with what happened last time.

* * *

_The four of them – Dahdreal, himself, Koia, and Varen – we’re all out together for the first time in forever. Dahdreal got a call for a solo job, and Koia decided to go along to ‘see what he could do.’_

_While the boy grumbled and played it off like he was annoyed, he knew the young assassin was itching to show how far he’d come; Dahdreal wanted Koia to tell him she was proud of him, wanted her to tell him how proud Ragroth would be. And they all knew it._

_Of course, he had tagged along; and Varen pretty much invited himself – not that anyone but Koia minded._

_So here they found themselves, job done and on their way home. They were still about 3 days from the house, and had stopped for some rest at the highest point of the sun._

_“Hn,” Koia shook, her tail twitching as she brushed hands over her, “Too much pollen.” She protested silently, though he heard her whisper._

_He glanced at where Varen was bothering Dahdreal about catching fresh rabbits to eat for the day, watching them as he leaned down to whisper into her ear, “I think there’s a river a klick southeast of here.”_

_He met her eyes when she glanced up at him, a coy look quickly bitten down. “Mm.. I think I’m going to go take a bath.” She agreed with his suggestion, backing up slowly towards the southeast of the small clearing they rested in the shade of. Stretching canopies of the surrounding trees acting like a tent over their exhaustion._

_His eyes followed her until she fully disappeared from sight, then he turned back to the two younger men who were now pointing sharpened sticks at each other in some mock-argument about responsibility. He cleared his throat, only vaguely getting their attention, “I’m going to go look for a river to refill the canteens with. Don’t kill each other while I’m gone.”_

_Varen waved him off with a flapping hand, the other appendage still pointing a stick at Dahdreal’s nose. The young assassin’s eyes going cross as he stared at the offending object and snorted out an insult._

_Without wasting a second to a possible distraction, he slipped out of the make-shift camp and headed towards the river with a bit more vigor than necessary._

_When he arrived at the riverbank, she was already stripping; tantos and throwing knives laying at her feet. She loosened the wrappings she wore around her torso and pulled them over her head, rather than waste time unwrapping them. He almost groaned as he let his eyes pour over the milky, smooth skin, starting at the dimples on her lower back and taking his time reaching her shoulders; only the dozens of scars more opaque than the translucent white that seemed to show off gold veins beneath in the sunlight._

_His strides reached her before he noticed he moved, pressing his chest into her back, neck craned down to nuzzle into her shoulder, “So wet for me,” He purred, “How long were you dripping, waiting to stop a moment long enough for me to jump you?”_

_She froze beneath him, turning around and letting him untie and start to drop the fabric that covered her lower half, “How did you-“_

_“I could smell you.” The words were a hungry grumble against her cheek, but he could see the way her gold eyes filled with horror at the thought. “Relax... it’s only because I’m so familiar with your sex.”_

_She was away from him in a second, her face flushed a bright pink as she teasingly backed into the water. From the way she didn’t hesitate, letting the water cover the tops of her feet and rise up her calves with every step, he knew the sun had warmed the wide, rushing stream considerably._

_He dropped his sword, unfastening his gear quickly. When he was fully nude, he stalked after her into the water. By the time he was knee deep, she had already crossed to the other side where a part of the stream broke into a deeper creek. The water rushed and gushed over large rocks, giving off rapids that turned sharply and plunged like a waterfall over flat rocks back into the main river’s current._

_Her hands made mesmerizing strokes over her arms, torso, and thighs beneath the plummeting streams of water. He stared as she cupped the falling water, drinking from her palms before slipping underneath the small waterfall, actually bathing off the pollen she complained about earlier. Though the moving stream only raised to high thigh on her, giving him more than an eyeful of her little show._

_He was on her in a heartbeat, mouth flushed and hungry against hers as he joined her under the small cascade. She rolled against him in protest when his hardened length pressed into her abdomen. He was more than happy to oblige, grabbing her thighs and lifting her onto the wet flat rocks. She didn’t release his lips as he pushed himself up to climb on top of her; his groan filling her mouth when she wrapped her legs around his hips, her sex pressed against him where he was already pulsing._

_“Fuck-!” He was right, she was soaking wet and so, so ready. He pulled back from her lips reluctantly, catching his breath as he leaned back on his knees and stared into his own personal heaven._

_His eyes followed his fingers as they dragged lazy lines from her shoulders, over the mounds of soft flesh that shook underneath her unstable breath, down the sides of her ribs. He took great pleasure in giving a quick, hard squeeze to her hips before dragging his fingertips down the inside of her thighs. His tongue wet his lips instinctually when his eyes met her center, spreading her with his thumbs for a better look at what awaited him. “So, so wet, baby.”_

_He dipped down, only to be stopped by a hand at his cheek and a whine above his head. A glance up gave him a view of her pleading pout, “Fuck me now, please.”_

_Their eyes stayed locked as he continued to dip down, though he mercifully didn’t tease her the way he wanted. He pressed a light kiss into her abdomen, working up her soft belly with small kisses and bites. He did, of course, have to indulge himself in the fattier flesh below her collarbones before reclaiming her lips. He kept one hand gripped on her waist as he broke off the kiss to lean his forehead against hers, spoiling himself in the way her breath peppered against his lips in ragged tempo. The way her eyes widen and brow furrowed was beautiful as he thrusted forward once he was sure he was lined up in a way to enter her gently._

_Her breath shattered as she instinctually flexed around him, barely taking in any air before he was invading her mouth, again. His pace started fast and shallow, enjoying the way she immediately turned to putty in his hands. He slipped one arm beneath her waist to keep her against him with every thrust; the other hand tangling into her hair, wanting to keep her close enough to taste between gasps and moans._

_His own breath staggered between groans and whispered words of filth and affection, slowing his pace into deep and gentle plunges as her oh-so-tight heat milked the pleasure out of him. She mewled beneath him in protest, writhing her hips for a more intense sensation. He chuckled out a moan, pressing wet kisses into the side of her face, her cheek and behind her ear, “Something you want, baby? Want me to make you feel good?”_

_One slim hand slipped up his chest to wrap around his shoulder, bringing him back down into her wanting mouth. He noticed a second too late, her other hand going down between them until fingertips danced over the base of his cock between strokes. He shuddered, moaning as he attempted to pry himself back from her intoxicating taste, “N-No, oh no.” He growled a dominating sound the best he could in his current state, leaning his face against her cheek “You know I want to hear you say it.”_

_“Please, Kissa’…” She kissed the underside of his jaw in mock innocence. He wasn’t buying it, “Mmm?”_

_His thrusts slowed considerably more until she whimpered in total submission, “I want you to take care of me.” It was barely a desperate whisper, but he heard it loud enough. “Oooh,” He lean back and start slamming his hips into hers, “Fuck, I’m going to take such good care of you. So perfect, so fucking perfect.” The hand in her hair slid down to cup her face, stroking her cheek with his thumb as he thrusted; He stared shamelessly at her face as it contorted, her eyes closing tight and her sounds hitting a higher pitch. He felt starved, thirsty despite the fresh water that rushed around them, watching her take a deep intake of breath._

_Only her entire body went startlingly still, and her eyes shot open in panic._

_His thrusts immediately stopped, “What’s w-“_

_“Lycan.” She breathed._

_Alarmed, he snapped his head to look over his shoulder, gauging the distance to his sword for a second before glancing in the direction his instincts told him the intruder was._

_“Dam-“ His heart restarted from its near death, and he immediately started thrusting again, snapping “Fuck off, Varen!”_

_Dainty claws dug into his shoulder from the stimulation, but her eyes stayed wide, watching his face above her. He panted, smoke blowing around him with every overstimulated exhale. When her hips didn’t restart responding to his thrusts, grinding into him in return, he flung his head back around and shouted, “VAREN!”_

_“R-right!” The half-elf startled out of his frozen state, the brush rustling as he heard the man retreat back to camp, “R-righ- Sor-s-Sorry!!”_

_Almost immediately, her eyes slid shut again and her hips ground into his. One hand clawed into his shoulder, the other scraping his back underneath his ribcage. She pulled herself up by the abdomen, wrapping both arms around his shoulder and dragging her split tiefling tongue from his collar bones, up his neck to his cheek. He groaned out into the air in a puff of smoke, “Fuck- you’re gonna make me cum.”_

_He felt a brush against his thigh as he switched up his thrusts again, keeping each push shallow as he laid her back down and leaned further over her, dragging the base of his length against her swollen clit with every stroke. Fingers flexed before claws dug deeper into his flesh._

_He relished in her cries, barely able to focus on anything other than the way her silky, plush sex lovingly massaged the head of his cock. She was hot, so fucking hot. His head dropped into her neck, worshiping the salty flesh with his thick tongue roving in violent circles._

_“Kissa!” Her cry made him drag his hand down towards her sex, intent on overstimulating the poor little tiefling into falling apart for him. His hand didn’t even make it to her navel before she tensed beneath him, “Gods- Cumming-“_

_It was more of a silent breath on moving lips than a moaned warning, but he clenched down his jaw and kept rocking his hips into her pulsing channel. His own groin hot and feeling impossibly sensitive, like he was about to go numb from the pressure the pleasure built within him. He lasted about 12 seconds into her orgasm before he bit deeply into the backside of her neck, his back arching and hips stuttering against her still ones. Her sopping walls clenched in time with his erection’s pulsing, baiting him into spilling more. She whimpered against the pressure in her lower abdomen from the heat he filled her with; panting as he pulled his teeth from her neck and dragged bloody open-mouthed kisses over her throat and face._

_They breathed into each other’s face; her more than likely becoming annoyed with his unending affections over her cheek, though she didn’t say anything against the adoring whispers and nuzzling. He dragged himself to a stop, nuzzling his forehead into hers and then leaning back a few inches to look at her seriously, “I love you.”_

_Her tired expression softened as he gazed at her; until he felt another stroke against his thigh. His eyes slipped down her trembling body before landing on his own lap. Her eyes followed his startled expression; and when she noticed her tail had affectionately wrapped around one of his legs, she tore it back so quickly that the two-tailed triangle accidently sliced into the fleshy muscle of his thigh._

_He swore, immediately covering the thin stinging wound with his hand as blood began to gush between his fingers._

_A frantic breath wiggled out from underneath him. He watched her slosh through the stream to their gear, admiring the view of her rear in the air and their combined fluids slicking her thighs as she scoured through her small pack. The appreciative grin fell from his face when he recognized the vial of herbs she pulled out._

_“You- You coat your tail in poison!?”_

* * *

Unconsciously, his hand reached up to play with the miniature vial around his neck at the memory. Small fingers weaved between his, causing him to glance at the tiefling who wore a small grin despite the fact her focus was on the person currently speaking. She dropped their intertwined hands beneath the table, brushing against the tail that was still wrapped around his leg, stroking his outer thigh delicately.

A smile stretched over him as well when she didn’t seem to have any reaction other than the side of her lips quirking up. He squeezed her hand and tried to focus on Varen’s story; But his mind was now a million miles away, and right beside him all at the same time.


	8. Ajoite Never Looked So Ugly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings:  
> Graphic depictions of murder, child murder  
> Graphic depictions of sexual coercion, statutory rape

_“Helarctos.” The authoritative call took her attention from the herbs she was organizing, having just finished fleshing out a new poison she had been tasked with supplying the temple. She quickly placed down the vial in her hand, shutting the cabinet and crossing the apothecary-type room to near the familiar voice._

_The older tiefling glanced at her briefly from his tall height; His wine-red eyes barely graced her with apathy before he strolled forward through the temple. She stayed at his heels, watching other acolytes give fleeting bows and reverent mumbles of ‘Latrans’ as the high acolyte passed them. He barely gave them as much acknowledgement as he gave her, but none of them seemed to mind or notice as they quickly moved on with their tasks._

_He led the way up the stairs to the highest tower of the Ajoite temple, only to stop short in their quarters, staring out the unglazed window. She stood silent, waiting for further instruction as she glanced around the familiar room that was filled warmly with tapestries, plush pillows, candles, bundles of incense and pipes._

_“The temple has a job for you.” He said nothing else as he stood at the window, hands clasped behind his back; the wind blowing the short black locks from his forehead. With a silent hurry, she crossed the room to pick up the twin tantos from the wall. She tied the sheaths across the back of her hips, then plopped onto the lush bed that was more of a comfortable pile of fine linens. With ease of practice, she wrapped the thick black bandages around her bare feet and up the calves, then across her palms and up her wrists. The last knot was tightened as the thick-muscled tiefling turned and left the room, leaving her to rush after him._

_The travel from the Ajoite temple through Rhinwedd was generally quiet. The tiefling country was vast, smaller than others with big trade cities, but not as open with their borders. They lacked the political systems that other lands had, relying on the temples that lied in the territory to lead them into both prosperity and salvation. The temples were the government, and with it came the protection of a silent army. Every acolyte was trained how to fight, how to kill. The truth behind this was that the protection was never meant for the land’s people, but the temple’s power. Dangerous as it could be, the citizens of Rhinwedd had made their peace with the unspoken agreement centuries ago, leaving the land quiet and scarce._

_She only paused in their trek when he did, stopping for a short rest and instruction. He didn’t stray from the routine, “There has been a man speaking out against the temple’s leadership.”_

_She straightened from where she leaned against a tree, watching him turn towards her and approach. The way the sunlight caught against her white skin and horns was almost blinding, she knew, but it seemed to shy away from the mauve red-brown skin before her. The aged-blood color of his spiraled horns a symbolic testament to his infamy within the temples. He stopped a few feet from her, “He wants a democracy under a feudal lord, like the half-breed infested deserts in the north.”_

_“I am to kill him.” She finished, only for his head to tilt slightly to the right in distaste._

_“No. He has a wife, and two sons.” Asao supplied, stepping close enough that she had to lean her head back to look up at him. His chest rose and fell an inch from her; Should she look straight ahead, she would be staring into the eyes of the skull tattooed on the front of his throat – a tattoo in which she bore, as well. “You will kill his children, to remind him of what can happen to those who speak against the gods. But you will leave his wife alive, to bare him more children to replace the ones he has lost in his blasphemy.” He dipped his head down, bringing his face centimeters from hers, his head still tilted, “Can you do that?”_

_With the flattening of the muscles in her jaw, she gave a stiff nod. Satisfied, Asao leaned back and pulled a canteen from his side. She watched him take two large gulps from it, a bead of the dark colored water slipping down his chin. A split tongue slipped out to lick the droplet up as he offered her the canteen, “Drink. We have an hour to go before we reach the house.” She accepted the heavy container, wasting no time in swallowing down sizable gulps of the sulfur infused water. The cold liquid was always an enjoyable feeling, despite the crisp fall air._

_When she handed back the canteen, he was swift to remind her of his high expectations as he restarted their journey, “Remember to watch your steps. I do not want to hear a single leaf crunch beneath those petite feet of yours.”_

_The warning was serious, he would be infuriated if she didn’t live up to the training he provided. But the real threat lingered beneath the surface. If she did not obey his orders, the orders of the temple, the collection of scars on her would grow underneath Asao’s firm discipline... at the very least._

_They reached the house without incident – without a single crunch of dried leaves or rush of harsh breath. He came to another stop just at the tree line behind the structure. “Helarctos.”_

_She tore her golden stare from the house windows to the tiefling beside her. “Do not disappoint me.”_

_The short swords pulled from their sheaths in silence._

_“Go.”_

_She slipped through the grass up to the side of the house as quickly as possible, still careful of the dried leaves that littered the ground. Should she dally, the tieflings in the house would smell her approach and hide their children. While most hiding spots were obvious – such as beneath the floorboards – it was an unnecessary outcome that would serve to shine poorly on her performance._

_She reached the door she had previously decided to enter from and took a deep inhale before kicking into the wood, the heel of her wrapped foot making a solid connection and busting the door open into it’s hinged wall. The dramatic entrance sure to startle the occupants into freezing._

_And it did its job. The moment she was inside, she flung one of the tanto like a throwing knife at the thin male tiefling in the room, the blade pinning him into the wall just underneath his shoulder. His anguished cry panicked his wife into snatching up the young child from the cradle box next to her and flee towards the back exit._

_Another kick on a wooden table sent it careening through the open space and jamming into the door of her exit._

_Frightened, the woman threw her back into the wall and sunk to the floor. Near silent pleas fell from her lips as she clung the crying baby against her chest with desperation._

_She approached the two steadily with the second blade, listening only distantly to the husband who shouted and pleaded for mercy for his family between grunts of pain._

_Just before she came within striking range, a high-pitched battle cry came from behind her. Her head snapped back to watch a boy of about six run towards her, tears streaming down his terrified face and a bread knife held up above his head with both hands. Keeping her feet firmly against the wood floor, she turned her upper body towards the quickly approaching tiefling child._

_Her free hand grabbed the boy by his small wrists, a twitch of her fingers into the muscle causing him to drop the knife with a whimper. The metal’s clatter against the floor drowned into the screams of his parents as her short sword thrusted through the boy’s gut. She kicked the body off the blade and to the floor as she watched the bright red slip like water down the shiny sharp metal._

_The anguished cries of the father continued, but the mother silenced as she turned back to the woman. A few steps forward was all it took to grab the fabric bundle in her arms and rip the infant from her. The desperate woman began to scream for mercy again; the mother’s fingers clawing frantically into the skin of her wrist._

_She gazed at the crying infant she held up by the swaddle, wide ice-blue orbs filled with confused and scared tears as its parents shrieked around them. They almost looked the color of ajoite, a cold irony in that thought. A shadow moved slowly across the floor, approaching her from behind until it blended into her own._

_The sight of Asao’s quiet, watching silhouette was all it took for her eyes to harden and the tanto to shove through the infant’s head. She dropped the silent body to the floor the moment she pulled the sword from it, no longer able to hear the mother’s screams under the rapid beating of her own heart._

_A warm chuckle pressed into her ear from behind, amused praise overheard through the emotional chaos, “Good girl.”_

_The sound of audible footsteps caused her to look up at Asao, watching him approach the still trapped husband._

_The look on his face was near blood thirsty as he bent over the smaller male tiefling, “You were a fool to think you would go unpunished for your sins. Have you forgotten that this is Gwlad y Duwiau?” The question came out in a violent hiss before Asao withdrew her sword from the man’s torso and struck his large dagger across the man’s neck._

_She watched the blood spill down his front in surprise. A sudden pressure of hands scraping down her legs made her look back at the tiefling woman who was sobbing at her feet. An uncomfortable sneer crossed her as she turned her head away; her eyes pinched closed tightly as she swung the sword backwards, slicing the head clean off the wife’s body and silencing the last noise in the house._

_When she realized she could hear her own panting breath, she turned back to the high ranking acolyte, “You said the templ-“_

_“The temple told me to take care of the problem this man was becoming.” Asao corrected as he re-approached her, a more laidback swagger in his steps, “And I did.” He brushed the splatter of blood off her face with his thumb before handing her back the tanto he had retrieved and watching her sheath them. “Let’s go home.”_

_She gave one last look to the bloodshed in the house before following him out the door._

* * *

_It was much later into the night when she sat on the ledge of the bay window in the upper tower. With the sky dark, the world was painted in different shades of gray, but no less sharp and vivid than daylight had been. She pulled her knee to her chest, resting her arm across it to stroke the stones that lined the window. The breeze caused her to shiver and turn her head away from the chilly assault, finding Asao observing her from his bed of linens. He laid back against a pile of pillows comfortably, a bell-shaped glass of what she remembered to be a gold color liquor in his hand._

_She closed her eyes to the grays of the room, missing the vivid colors of the tapestries and curtains that lined the walls. A deep breath in brought the familiar smell of the burning myrrh and opium, overpowering the lingering taste of dinner’s raw beef on her tongue, “Latrans-“_

_He interrupted her immediately, spinning the liquid in the glass, “Everyone is either asleep or far from the temple at the moment, little one.”_

_“Asao.” She corrected, though she didn’t continue, no longer sure of what she was going to say anyway._

_It was quiet for several minutes as she watched small animals scurry through the darkness of the grass down below. Though she got the feeling that hers was the least predatory gaze in that room._

_“You did well today.”_

_She glanced over her shoulder at the deep voice, square eyes watching her intently as he drank from the curved glass. She studied him for a minute before replying as she looked back outside, “I don’t feel good about it.”_

_“You’re not supposed to feel good.” The glass slammed down onto the stone ledge next to him, accompanying his gruff voice in a show of agitation to get her attention, “It’s not for you; the gods do not care how you feel.”_

_His angry hiss faded into a sigh, and after a moment he opened his arms and tilted his head towards her, “Come here.”_

_She crawled out of the window nook and tip-toed towards him, sinking into the linens. Once she was settled, he pulled her into his bare chest and stroked his fingers through her hair. His tail wrapped like a vine around hers, the thick diamond shaped tip playfully aggravating the triangle-disk shape on hers._

_He hummed, laying his chin against the top of her head, “You just do what the gods bid and let me worry about making you feel good. Alright, little one?”_

_He tilted his head back when he felt her nod, bringing a long-clawed finger to her chin to tilt her head back. Black eyes stared back at her, the older tiefling’s entire red being now a mass of different grays and blacks. It made him much less sinister looking._

_Lips pressed gently into hers before she realized she had shut her eyes, tilting her head to his liking, and invading her mouth with a warm breath that tasted of opium. A snake-like tongue flicked affectionately across her lower lip before sharp fangs bit into it, pulling on it to draw sound from her. He gave another satisfied hum against her before moving the hand that was holding her chin down her front. A sharper claw separated the soft wrappings that encircled her neck from the portion that draped around her torso. He dragged his claw down the front of the cloth, choosing to cut it off rather than take time unwrapping the meal that awaited him._

_His other arm slipped lower around her back to hold her in place as his palm brushed over the small mounds of flesh, enticing the nipples to peaks with the teasing motion. Happy with the shaking breaths she released into his searching mouth, he squeezed and rotated his wrist, finally letting her break away from his lips. She tilted her head back as he dipped to suck and bite at the inside of her collarbones aggressively, leaving painful bruises that the wrappings would cover the next day._

_Their tails brushed against each other, never unwrapping from their affectionate embrace. His hand traveled lower again, fingers twisting expertly into the knots tied at her hip. She watched, nearly impressed, as he spread his knuckles and the temple fashion came undone around his fingers, much like she would soon enough._

_Using his knee to spread hers, he leaned over her a slight bit more and pinched hard onto her nipple, stealing the opportunity to swallow up the pained cry with a wet chuckle. “Quiet, little one. We must not be heard.” His warning was muffled into her lips, but she could read his amusement._

_He would be quite humored to see her get caught with her lips wrapped around his cock or bent over beneath him. But, despite his mental fantasy, he would never allow it to happen. Personal relationships within the temple – be they platonic or otherwise – were strictly forbidden, and he would not be satisfied watching someone else punish, train, or take care of her._

_If there was one thing Asao was, it was domineering._

_He reacquired her attention when she felt his fingers slip between her thighs and spread her bare to the cool air. Her gasp made him smirk down at her, making her body arch as his middle finger swirled around her entrance and flicked at the delicate nub that was becoming more sensitive by the second, “Mm, is it too cold?”_

_He waited until her slick started to coat the pad of his finger before pulling his hand away. The skull’s ink on his neck brushed her lips as he leaned over her, dipping his fingers into the liquor glass and rubbing them against the ice blocks inside. His grin widened as he glanced down at her, wasting no time to shoot his hand back between her legs and press his cold digits against her core._

_This gasp came much louder, accompanied by uncomfortable squirming as he massaged the freezing feeling into her clit. “Poor little tief’…” His smirk closed in on her, his lips teasingly close to hers as he talked, “You’re so sensitive to the cold, you might cum just like this.”_

_She pleaded through her teeth as her head thrashed back, her exposed neck enticing his sharp canines to trail across her skin until he found the most tender spot to bite, “Gods, please! Too cold!”_

_When he found the spot he wanted, he nipped at it gently, drawing his tongue over it in repetitive laps. He stopped teasing her core after a solid pinch to her clit between his two cold fingers, “Are you asking the gods or me, little one?”_

_She watched wide-eyed as his fingers head back towards the glass of ice teasingly alongside his question. “You!” She appealed, turning her head back to find him now hovering an inch from her face, “Asao, please no – “ He cut her off with an intense kiss, but she could hear the rattling of the ice around the crystal as his fingers played within the cold._

_He swallowed up another cry as his freezing fingers invaded her. The chill reaching her bones as he thrusted past the ribbed top flesh and stroked that plush spot deep within her, skillfully careful of his claws. She thrashed against him, her own short claws ripping the linens beneath her as the literal ice-cold appendages teased that erogenous spot. “Fuck Asao – ! So cold!” A drastic whimper broke up her words as his chilly palm smacked against her clit with his assault._

_He stared down at her, heady and predatorial, as his fingers began to thrust quickly in and out of her, spreading to stretch her out at random intervals, “Shh, little one. Your body’s so hot, you’ll warm them up soon.” He lapped at the spot on her neck again before nuzzling into her ear, “And then you can warm my cock with your needy little cunt.”_

_He tore his eyes from hers to glance down at her twitching thighs, a disappointed growl turning his lips down, “Look at you, the cold is too much for you – you’re about to cum.”_

_He pulled his sopping fingers from her core and wrapped his arms around her center to press her abdomen against his, “We can’t have that. I want to feel you break on my cock.” He didn’t give her time to reply before he re-found his desired spot at the side of her throat and sunk his teeth into it._

_Her hand came up to cover her mouth as she cried into her palm, twisting in his arms to release him from her, her tail striking out against his thicker tail’s hold. He didn’t let up, sucking at the flesh that broke underneath the strain of his vicious pressure. He moaned into the flavor of her agony, and ground his hips into hers. She bucked back in response, feeling his hardened length throb at her core beneath his loose pants._

_“Shit!” He pulled back and sat up, ignoring the blood that smeared around his mouth as he glanced down into his lap. A large wet spot of her juices at his crotch caused the thin fabric to stick to his dick, showing off the shape with brilliant detail. He hurriedly pulled off the offending clothing and leaned back over her, bending her knees up to her chest and bracing his arms on either side of her head._

_“As much as I want to be inside of you, it looks like we have a bit of cleaning up to do.” His hot tongue licked up the side of her face, collecting the tears she had shed in his assault. Her own slipped out obediently to lap her blood from his lips, only to get tangled in his devilish trap. He swallowed her mouth again, thrusting into her without warning. Her body seized around him, going stiff as he slammed all the way to his base in every thrust._

_He drank in every moan, every sound she fed him, releasing her waist to pin her arms wide from her head. The distance between the muscle keeping her from moving an inch as she struggled underneath the pleasure. The pace of his hips was too brutal for hers to keep up with, making her weak and paralyzed to his mercy. And he didn’t seem to be feeling merciful today as he rolled his hips into her with intentional circles. Every thrust becoming a sinking feeling of fullness inside of her and a blasting shock of pleasure against her clit._

_When he finally let go of her mouth to watch her beneath him, fully submitted to his promise of making her feel good, she had nothing left to give him. An infernal curse left her on a breath that stole the air from her way too quickly._

_His eyes looked deadly as he stared down at her, watching her break completely, her hot passage clenching in erratic intervals around his cock. A sneering grunt left him as he endured it, not letting up his thrusting until overstimulated tears slipped down her cheeks and begging words left her lips._

_A snarl was all she heard before he was no longer inside of her, his tail ripped from hers, and she was flipped onto her stomach. Clawed hands dug into her hips and lifted them a few inches from where she laid flat against the linens. He thrusted back into her at a brutal pace, making snarls louder than her earlier cries. She never got a chance to catch her breath, then she was lifted onto her knees. Her back pressed against Asao’s chest as he lapped back at her neck underneath her ear; one hand wrapped around her torso just underneath her breasts to hold her up, the other rubbed abusing circles at her clit._

_His pleasured snarls suddenly became pleading pants in her ear, “Cum again for me, little tief’. Break apart on my cock.”_

_She obeyed the order immediately, vaguely feeling his hips studder as he spilled inside of her with a harsh whine. Her vision went black as she took in desperate breaths of air, blinking back to the gray of the world that only tipped in color near the candle lights._

_When her heart stopped running, she took in the fact Asao had laid back on his side and brought her down with him. His cock still rested, half hard, inside her; his arms wrapped securely around her middle as he nuzzled into her hair. She closed her eyes again as she listened to him mumble sweet nothings into her hair, only to doze off briefly._

_She woke again when she felt him slip his flaccid length out of her and roll her over to snuggle her into his chest, “Sleepy, little tief’?” His tail had curled back around hers, stroking against it with gentle comforting strokes._

_Her response was a positive hum and a slight nod into his throat. He chuckled and kissed her on the forehead before sighing himself, “If he could only see you now, drained and filled with my cum.”_

_She blinked._

_She didn’t remember him saying that?_

_“Who?” Her voice cracked despite her curious whisper._

_“Ragroth, of course.”_

_Ragroth?_

_But she hadn’t met him yet._

_How could Asao know about him?_

_“You must understand how much it upset me to smell you on him, a human.”_

_She glanced up at him, his eyes soft as he stared down at her, “What?”_

_“A shame he had to die.”_

_Ragroth?_

_Right, he died._

_But-_

_She blinked in confusion, “How did you know…”_

_Asao smiled, dipping his head down to brush his lips over hers and ghost them to the shell of her ear, “Who do you think killed him, little one?”_

* * *

_She woke with a startling breath, desperately glancing around herself. A deep sigh left her when she recognized the empty mercenary house instead of the temple; her hands coming up to cover her tear-stained face as she breathed hard._


End file.
